Reminiscence
by phoenixi-sksl
Summary: John Watson wonders about everything Sherlock has done for him... and wonders why he's still hiding the truth. My first story, terrible summary, Johnlock, please take a look. Will update at least once a week. T for possible... well, we'll have to see.
1. Prologue

**Hey there! This is my first ever fic – ever. So it'd be nice if you could take the time to review it and tell me what I can do better.**

**Just a prologue for now, first actual chapter in a few hours. I'll still be awake.**

_Prologue_

_John W. – A Personal Account - 29__th__ April_

_I've been thinking about the past. You know, since I've met Sherlock. And I seem to find myself always wondering... why me? I wouldn't change what's happened for the world, but... Sherlock's done so much for me. Given me so many things. And I can't seem to avoid thinking about how lucky I was. After the army, things never seemed to be going my way. Harry's drinking got worse, I ended up with my limp, and nobody ever tried to speak to me the way they had before._ _People were afraid of me, like I was the one that had shot someone. Before, they were appreciative - 'What you're doing is so brave' and 'I wish there were more people like you in the world'. But afterwards... I felt so alone. Only the jolly ones, like Stamford, would even look me in the eye._

_And then we met._

_Since then, everything's been so much more enjoyable. And I know it's not just a coincidence. Sherlock..._

_It was always meant to be this way._

I clicked the close button on the document and rested my head in his hands, a despairing sigh escaping me. The time I spend thinking only seems to make things worse. I feel like there's a secret I have to keep, only I hadn't really known exactly what that secret was for a while. But now it's so much clearer. I don't know when exactly these feelings started... all I know is that Sherlock has an effect on me that takes me to another place, a place where...

...he knows.


	2. Chapter One

**As promised, the first proper chapter. Remember, reviews are like cookies – damn, I love cookies.**

Chapter One

I rub at my eyes, smacking the top of the alarm clock. Four thirty am. _Four bloody thirty! _Sherlock always has to hijack the alarm, set it far too early. Still, it gives me time to wake up, prepare... think. It's another of the many good things Sherlock does for me. For us. I hate to wonder what time I'd wake up if I was still alone. I don't want to think about that just now. Right now, I have to go and find Sherlock. My Sherlock.

I trudge down to the kitchen, and he's sat there, bright as day. Sherlock doesn't bother with sleep. It's all just wasted time to him. But at least he understands that I need my sleep, and he won't try to keep me awake. He cares. _He cares_.

"Morning, Sherlock."

"Morning, John."

That's all I can bring myself to say at such an early time. I still feel asleep, like everything here is a dream. But, I suppose, Sherlock is the sort of person who makes everything feel dreamy. Maybe he _is _drea-

Stop. Don't think about this.

It won't work. It doesn't work. I know Sherlock is completely unfazed by that sort of situation. It doesn't alarm him. _I _don't alarm him. So there's no point in trying, surely. He won't return the way I feel. I remember one of the things he said on the first case we worked on. "Married to my work." Exactly. He doesn't have time for anything else. He doesn't have time for me.

Then why am I still here?

Maybe...

"John? You seem distracted. Have some coffee, that usually helps you." Sherlock's drawl crept into me like a warm mug of cocoa. Soft, understanding, yet withdrawn and unemotional. He cares, just not in the way that I _want _him to care. But I can't help feeling that there's something about this that means more than usual. Something that even Sherlock must have noticed.

He must have. Right?

I eventually grab the kettle. It's warm, but I flick the switch again since it kills some time. Slumping down onto the edge of the sofa, the one nearest to Sherlock's chair, I reach into my dressing gown pocket for my mobile. One message, unattainable number. Who?..

_Why so melancholy?_

Probably just a nosy friend from a new phone. Irene, perhaps. Yes, I know she's still alive. I just choose to ignore her. Or Mycroft. He likes to do the surprising thing too. Either way, I don't particularly care. I have a breakfast to get to. But before I can rise from the sofa once more, I hear Sherlock: "Stay there, I'll get the coffee." It makes me happy, knowing he'll do something for me without hesitation. He's done things like that many times before. Some inconsequential, like the coffee, but sometimes serious, like the bomb at the swimming pool. He rushed up to help me that time, and I know he'll do it again.

Kicking back over the arm, safe in the knowledge that it's too early for Mrs. Hudson to come and tut at me, I wait patiently.

But then, a scream.

_What? _I panic, and rush to the kitchen, and I see havoc. A kettle, spilt, cracked and rolling around on the floor. A pool of boiling water. And the world's only consulting detective, clutching his hand at the sudden jolt of pain. I feel bad now. Sherlock's hurt, and now I have to help him.

"What did you do?"

"It hurts, J-John..." Sherlock clearly wasn't used to such a simple accident as this. He looked more frightened than even during the swimming pool incident, and that was pretty nerve wracking, I can tell you. Jogging to his side, I grabbed him by the wrist and led him to the tap. _Stream of cold water to let trapped heat escape. _He let out another little hiss as the tap water hit the back of his hand, and the water ran off the side of his wrist and in between my fingers. I suppose it tickled a little, but that wasn't important right now. All that mattered was that Sherlock didn't hurt any more.

"J-John..." There was a hint in Sherlock's voice that sounded more like worry than fear. He wouldn't worry about himself, though. I look up to see him staring right at me, into me, into the heart of me, and I melt at the connection. His pale blue eyes follow mine as I flick back and forth between his face and his hand. His hair is floppy, curls obscuring his right eye where painful tears are starting to form. I shiver as I realise how close we are. I have to take lighter breaths – anything more, and I could taste him. That just feels like too much to me, given how this is a one way feeling.

But then I take an even closer look, and I go dizzy with the emotion. This is why I stick around Sherlock. The cases, the daily life, even the simplest of moments. When Sherlock is there, the room lights up as though he was framed by a million fireflies. I know I love him. But does he love me? Fear stops me from ever asking. But I look at him now, and I can almost see what he's thinking, about whether he returns the feeling.

The moment fades. Sherlock's hand is cool now, healed well. I cough to avoid the silence, as if it could give away the truth. Sherlock looks warm, almost embarrassed. Why?

I shall have to ask someday.


	3. Chapter Two

**Wow. According to my email, about six people are already watching my story. And I got a review! Goody! So shout out to Lemonpaw, my first ever reviewer... ever! I like exclamation marks! Time for Chapter Two! Yay!**

**On another note, this story probably won't be any longer than maybe ten chapters. It's just a test, really, as I get used to fanfiction in general, and the character's personalities, and how OOC it is okay for them to be. But I don't even really know where this is going. Improvisation, people! I might write another Sherlock after, or I might try and test out something I also enjoy, like Doctor Who or Sonic.**

**Anyhoo, Chapter Two! (also, rhyming FTW!)**

Chapter Two

Sitting in the pub, I cast my eyes over the empty tables. Of course the tables are empty. It's only two in the afternoon. It's only just opened. What am I expecting? Perhaps all the time I've spent on cases with Sherlock has given me the expectation of constantly meeting people. But now it's just me, a couple of regulars, and the bartender.

Whatever. I'm thirsty.

"Same again, please." I call over to Mark. He looks up from the glass he's rinsing, and gives me what I decide is a pitying smile.

"Again? But it's so early. Is everything okay? Oh, don't worry; it's none of my business, really." I gave him a grimace in reply. Nodding to confirm the order, he set to work on my second cider, and I took the time to check if I had any texts. Mycroft might have been spying again, or Mrs. Hudson could be wondering why Sherlock had cut a hole in the curtains.

One message:

_I apologize for my clumsiness earlier. –SH_

"What?" I had to glance at the screen for a few seconds before I decided it really was Sherlock who had sent the text. He'd been acting strange for some time now, but I just didn't know why. Mark came to me with the cider and I handed him the money, then took a large gulp. I didn't quite understand what had caused this change in Sherlock, but damn it, I was going to find out. I quickly sent a reply:

_There's no need to be sorry. What's gotten into you, anyway? –JW_

I finished the cider in a few more big gulps. The alcohol felt nice, cooling my worry over my flatmate and setting a barrier between me and my problems. But I knew not to drink too much. That just causes more problems. But all I could decide to do at this moment was to drown my sorrows in cider; under the promise that there was no way just one more glass would have an effect on me. I waved over to Mark, he'd get the message. Sighing, I felt my phone buzz in my hand. I looked down.

_Nothing's gotten into me, John. That's like saying Anderson's IQ finally passed to the levels of a bumblebee. But there is something I have to discuss. Meet at the park at eight? –SH_

I smiled. That's more like Sherlock, cracking jokes about Anderson and brushing off incidents like bits of fluff on a jacket. I texted a quick 'okay' back and settled into my third drink. Surely a bit of courage would come in handy.

A few more drinks wouldn't be a problem.

* * *

I stumbled down to the park. Sherlock's frame stood beneath an oak tree, calm and sophisticated. Perhaps it was just the drink, but he certainly looked like an angel, the tree branches acting in place of wings. He looked angelic. He _was _angelic. My breath caught in my throat – definitely not the cider. Sherlock looked up – he must have been reading something on his phone – and gave off one of his simple, radiant smiles. God, he looked good.

"Ah, you're here. A little bedraggled, but here nonetheless." Sherlock's calm, normal voice called to me from a few metres away. I couldn't help wondering what it would be like if he actually whispered. I don't think I've ever heard him whisper, and I wonder how cute it'd make him sound – _cute? _How drunk am I?

"Sherlock, whatchu want?" My voice seemed a bit slurred, but I'm sure that Sherlock wouldn't fail to understand what I was saying.

"I've been wondering... you could do with a treat. After all, you've been a bit stressed lately, and I haven't got any cases worth my interest, so..." Sherlock seemed almost as dazed as I was. There _was _something wrong, wasn't there?

"Sherlock... you 'kay?"

"Uh... of course, John. Keep up; I did say so earlier, didn't I?" Sherlock's tone seemed quieter, more... afraid.

But of what, I couldn't say just yet.

**That's Chapter Two I guess. Next time, we'll find out what Sherlock's treat is, and maybe we'll find out a little more about John's feelings for Sherlock... or perhaps vice versa.**

**Until then!**


	4. Chapter Three

**Okay, so I apologize for not updating yesterday. But I had a lot of revision for tests to do, and so I will do my best to update more consistently from now on. Bleh. And yes, John's thoughts will not be impaired by the alcohol, only his speech.**

**Anyway, where were we... oh yes, that's right. John's a bit wasted and Sherlock's acting oddly too. Either way, time for the third chapter!**

* * *

Chapter Three

"Right, so you's asking me about s'thing." I slurred my voice more constantly now. Perhaps the drink was getting worse, perhaps Sherlock was making me nervous. Doesn't matter, there's plenty of time to consider this in a more sober situation.

"John..."

"Hold on a sec. Is this some kind'f setup? I dun wanna get dragged int' anything I dun wanna." What was this about, actually? God damn it, I hate surprises.

"John... I believe there's something you've been hiding from me."

"Wuh? I dunno, what are you talk'n bout?" My eyes peered down at the grass, its surface coated with a dense scattering of flowers. It was nothing compared to what I was sitting next to, mind.

"I happened across your blog this morning. There were a suspicious lack of posts, since I know you like to update that thing whenever you can. So I hacked your laptop for anything you might have been busy with to prevent you. After all, I could only assume it must have been something serious." Sherlock seemed to be occupied with the tips of his fingers at that point.

Wait. Did he mean-

_Oh, hell._

I thought about that personal entry from yesterday. Then I remembered the other one, from just after I went to the pub. It was quite short, but...

* * *

_John W. – A Personal Account – 30__th__ April_

_I love him._

_I know I love him._

_I can't stop thinking about him. Everything about Sherly is perfect. Why have I ever doubted this? Those gorgeous, pale blue eyes... those soft, chocolate-coloured curls... that sexy, sexy voice..._

_I can't believe how much I want this..._

_...how much I want __**him**__._

* * *

I swallowed. No, surely...

"Tell me, John, is it true?"

"...You mean...?"

"Yes. John, do you really feel that way?"

My breath caught in my throat. It had been doing that a lot lately. Sherlock's influence. Under the influence. _Well_, I thought, _this is the end. He'll never look at you in the same way._

"...Why didn't you say something? If you had a problem, you know I can solve any problem. We've solved so many cases together, haven't we?"

"I suppose... but I... I just didn't think it would be a good idea to mention it." The realizations had sobered me up. I'd probably still end up with a hangover, mind, but that's just the luck of the draw.

"Why not?" As always, Sherlock seemed so laidback about the idea. Did he not realize how unusual this situation was?

"Well... it's not the norm, in emotional terms. Not really."

"John, aren't you forgetting? High functioning sociopaths don't get emotions like the rest of the world gets them. Still haven't done you're research?" Also as always, Sherlock's sarcastic, witty humour shining through. Another reason why I care so much about him. I chuckled.

"Heh. Guess so"

"John, I... I... there's something I have to do, and I need help from you in order to do it." Sherlock's face seemed to be turning a sort of pale rose. Bloody hell, if I thought he was cute before, he looked delicious now. I'd caught the scent of him before, and I wonder if such a good smell converted to taste too...

"Well, what do you want?" I couldn't help but lean forward in my chair, as though it'd make the moment I'd been wanting for some time happen. But that couldn't be the case. Like hell he was going to do something like that.

I felt a hand slip over mine.

_Oh my God._

Sherlock curled his perfect lips into a light smile.

_Oh my actual God._

This was happening. I could hardly believe it. This moment was the moment I had wanted for so long, and now... I closed my eyes, waiting for the connection.

I waited, and nothing happened.

It took me a couple of minutes to open my eyes, and I looked to the other end of the bench where Sherlock had been. Where...?

A note:

_Not here. Too open. You want the real truth? The moment? Then come to the flat in half an hour. Until then... and yes, I did plan this out. No offence, but you're so easily manipulated, John. Either way, 221B, thirty minutes. And bring something to drink. Non-alcoholic, given what you've already had as of late. Stop going to the pub from now, since you have no reason to. –SH x_

I read the not through a few times. Easily manipulated... well, that was true. Non-alcoholic – of course, he'd get that the drinking was because of my feelings. I'd already decided he wasn't really a sociopath. And... was that a kiss at the end? I think my heart was beginning to flip out, more so than ever. I checked my watch.

Just twenty-seven minutes to wait, and then I'd finally get the moment I'd waited for.

* * *

**Aww. I was gonna put Mycroft in this chapter, but I couldn't really be bothered. I do like myself a bit of Mystrade at times, though, so expect a proper fanfic about that... eventually.**

**Might update again later. If you're lucky.**


	5. Chapter Four

**Hello all! Sorry for not updating again... I was ill, which would have been good 'cause I could get more done, but then I got more ill and couldn't really escape from constant sicky moments. :/ So there'll be two chapters today! Huzzah!**

**Time for chapter four!**

Chapter Four

Twenty four minutes to go.

I paced around the flowerbeds, still at the park, and wondered if things could get any better. I never would have thought that Sherlock would notice – but I suppose he does notice practically anything. He's the world's only consulting detective, it's what he does.

Whistling, I remembered that I had turned my phone to silent before walking to meet Sherlock, since I really didn't want to be interrupted. I flicked it to the inbox, and saw three texts. The first one:

_Sherlock seems worked up about something. Hide. -MH_

Well, that made sense. Two:

_John, darling, I'd like if you could bring me a loaf of bread on the way back from wherever you're off to. Much obliged. –Mrs. H_

I laughed. To think there was actually a normal world out there while I was busy daydreaming was a surreal feeling. I figured I could get the bread, and then be back at about the right time. I set off, checking the final text while I was at it:

_You. Tell me what Freak's up to, I need something. –A_

"Damn Anderson. Stop trying to annoy me!" I muttered to myself as I wandered down to the bakery. As I opened the door, I saw a familiar face waiting on the windowsill, Blackberry in hand.

"Ah, hello. And today you're..."

"Lorna. I had a friend called Lorna once, and it stuck." 'Lorna' smiled, peeking over her smartphone. "And I take it Sherlock's got you out on errands again?"

"The landlady, actually."

"Oh. A minor change then." I chuckled.

"More than minor, actually. I can't explain much, but tell Mycroft to get ready for a shock. It could change everything he knows, honestly." Lorna gave me a confused look, the returned to her usual charming gaze. "Oh, and tell him I want my jumper back."

"What? Why does he have your jumper?"

"You know just as much as I do."

Nineteen minutes to go.

Carrying the loaf of farmer's bread in a bag down the road, I pondered what exactly Sherlock had felt when he discovered my accounts. Was he surprised? I don't even know. Maybe he was relieved. Maybe he had always felt the same way. It didn't matter, because he clearly felt something now. Smiling at everyone I saw, I wonder what they thought I was so happy about. Maybe they think I have a girlfriend. _Almost_, I think. _But what does it matter? Sherlock's mine now, and I'm so happy_. I practically skipped down to Baker Street.

Fourteen minutes to go.

I remember that I need a drink. Quickly, I walk over to the corner shop and grab some posh looking Morello Cherry fruit crush. I take a tester sip, and the taste melts onto my tongue with pleasure. _Like something else will soon._

Eight minutes.

I walk into the main hall at 221, and drop Mrs. Hudson's loaf off, taking the time to stop and tell her as much as I can say – that there will be changes soon. I smile some more and look at my watch for the millionth time.

Two minutes.

Now will do.

I open the door to our part of the house, 221B. I can smell something deliciously sweet from the kitchen, and I can't believe how amazing it is. Did Sherlock actually make this? Probably not, but I still feel so happy at the effort he's made.

Thirty seconds!

"Sherlock? I'm here." I call out into the flat, wondering where exactly he is. "I love that smell! What is it...?"

A face popped down from the ceiling. "You bellowed?"

"Ah! What the - did you cut a hole in the ceiling? Mrs. Hudson'll kill you for this!" I can't help but laugh at how eccentric everything is here. Perhaps I've only just noticed. For the first time ever, I notice the insanity, truly notice it, and it doesn't bother me in the slightest.

"Well then." Sherlock says. "Let's get this started."

**Another chapter shall be up in a couple of hours. Are you excited? I know I am! (Boy, that sounded cheesy...)**


	6. Chapter Five

**What can I say? I did promise.**

**This is where things start heating up a bit, and where the T rating will finally be there for a reason.**

**Well, here we go. And as always, reviews are much appreciated. Shout out to 666Neme666, my second (and also third) ever reviewer! Many thanks!**

Chapter Five

"So... I brought a drink." I tried to contain a relatively straight face as Sherlock continued to stay in his ceiling hole. "By the way, why exactly is that hole there? Seeing as it just leads to the hall, it's not a very good sunroof. And I'm bound to fall through at some point."

"Oh, don't worry. It was an experiment, and Mycroft is having some friends fix it during the night. By the way, he mentioned his assistant saying something about 'change'..."

"Ah, t-that was nothing."

"Well, as long as it's unimportant." Sherlock gave me one of his simple smiles, although from the position he was in it looked extremely goofy. I couldn't help but laugh.

"What is that smell, again? Food?"

"Just a simple thing I experimented with earlier."

"Wow, two experiments in half an hour, I – did you microwave the plaster?"

"Oven baked, actually." I groaned."

"Seriously? I hope there aren't any chemicals in that smell. Wouldn't want to be sent to hospital with solvent poisoning when we were about to – I mean, that wouldn't be good." Despite how close I was, I couldn't help but feel embarrassed.

"About to what?"

"N-nothing."

"John."

"What?"

"Come upstairs." I almost choked at the blatant feel of the statement. It's almost as if Sherlock meant we were going to –

I rushed up the stairs, excited and amazed at what we were going to do. All this time, I'd been so afraid of even contemplating such an idea, but now... I shivered with delight.

As soon as I got to Sherlock, I saw he had taken his head out of the hole – and I whimpered with sudden delight. Sherlock was stood there, smirk on his gorgeous face, hands in the pockets of his simple trousers –

And wearing nothing else.

Sherlock was practically half naked.

Gasping, I could barely move. I almost felt afraid, like I wouldn't be enough, like this was doomed to fail. But then I saw him walk towards me, and I didn't have to do anything. Sherlock lifted a hand up, rested it against my cheek. The contact was more than enough.

I can't even describe it.

He's perfect.

He looks like an angel.

And he even _tastes _like one.

Reaching around to hold him closer to me, I can feel his pale smooth skin on the tips of my fingers. I moan at the pleasure, and Sherlock seems happy too. Slowly, I feel him slide his face away from mine, lightly nibbling at the edges of my neck, calmly sliding his tongue down to my throat. I can barely breathe – all of the fear has melted away, and all I can do is wonder at how Sherlock can be so good at something he's supposedly never done.

"John. Come along, now."

Oh my God. That whispering. I did mention, didn't I? How I always how he whispered. It's like a moment where everything goes quiet, simply so the world can hear his wonderful, sexy voice all the more better. And I love it.

Closing his arms around my waist, I feel myself being guided down, towards...

Oh my God.

Oh my actual God.

Sherlock's bedroom.

"Sherlock... _oh_..."

This is it.

This is all I could ever hope for.

Dreams.

All of them coming true...

* * *

**Hallelujah, something smexy at last! Honestly, I was terrified about this chapter. Three reasons: one, I had no idea how far it would go; two, I didn't know how far I **_**wanted **_**it to go; and three, making sure no one in my house (parents, friend, dog) tried to read it and discover that I really am a lot less adorable than they believe.**

**It's not a very long chapter, but it's still probably the best thing I've come up with so far. As I mentioned before, there'll probably only be a few more chapters, and I'd be so happy to have some PMs from people with suggestions and requests. I'll do anything right now except smut and gory stuff, since I'm crap at those. :/**

**See you all tomorrow. Remember, reviews are now officially better than cookies!**


	7. Chapter Six

**Well, after the last chapter, I feel we should head on into the hotness. xD**

Chapter Six

Groggily, I let my eyelids pull themselves open, and sat up in the comfortable double bed. Stretching out, I looked to my side to see Sherlock lying there, contentment on his sleeping face. Sherlock doesn't sleep very often. _Guess I must have tired him out_. I couldn't help but smirk at that thought. Somehow, I still couldn't see last night as a reality. Slowly, I leaned over so my face hovered over Sherlock's and his eyes fluttered open as he felt my breath against his skin.

"Unh... John, I don't have the energy for anymore..."

"No, you twit! Wake up, it's almost midday!" I peered over at the clock as I spoke. Wow, had we really slept for so long? At what point did we even fall asleep? It felt such a blur. I looked over to my phone, which acted as my alarm. Seventeen texts! Clearly, the news had spread.

"I wonder if Mrs. Hudson kno -"

"Sherlock, according to my phone, everyone kno – oh, God, even _that _guy." I scrolled to one of my texts. _Jim_.

"Well, it shouldn't matter. Why should it? I don't see anything wrong with us."

"Well, you're good like that. Oh, and Mycroft says he knows a good wedding planner." I sighed. "They totally saw this coming, you know."

"To be honest, I can see why."

"Why do you say tha -?"

Before I could finish that sentence, Sherlock's lips connected for what might actually have been the hundredth time already. The taste would never get tiring, though. The benefits of a nicotine patch only 'smoking' addiction is the lack of bad taste. As a result, Sherlock's lips tasted like a smooth, delicate caramel, and I couldn't understand how he could have gin so long without being in a relationship. Breaking away, Sherlock smiled, and then grimaced cheerily.

"John, I think someone specific might have spilled this."

"What do you mean?" Then I saw the note taped to the door:

_Didn't want to disturb you, dearies. Honestly, was I surprised! Don't worry though - remember, that friend with the married ones? Maybe I'll have some too, heehee. -Mrs. H_

I laughed. "Well, there's Mycroft's wedding planner explained."

Sherlock laughed along with me. "John, I hope you don't intend on going to work today."

"At lunchtime? Are you serious? As if!"

* * *

I trudged into the kitchen, peering once more at the clock. My eyes widened in shock. _Twenty past four? _This might be the latest I had ever slept in. But I know it's worth it. I looked at Sherlock, giggling.

"Can I just say burnt plaster has a nice smell, doesn't it?"

"Oh, not this again." Sherlock rolled his eyes, and I couldn't help but laugh. Sherlock had yet to actually get dressed, so he was still shirtless, now only in his boxers, and his hair was knotted and bedraggled.

"It's not funny. You're the one that's messed up my hair!"

"Oh, listen to you! Who's the one who punched me in the face just 'cause he wanted a punch back? Hmmm? Hmmmmm?" I tackled Sherlock down, and we flopped back onto the sofa, laughter cascading from the both of us. I snuggled up to Sherlock, burying my head into his shoulder.

"Something tells me you don't want to eat."

"Well, you don't seem to eat more than one meal a day, so why should I eat anything?" Sherlock smirked.

"I want to play a game."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Truth or dare."

"Sure. Where exactly did this come from, anyway? And since when do you even like games that don't involve serial killers?" I raised my eyebrow in scepticism.

"Doesn't matter. You go first.

**Aaaand that's all for today. A bit cut off, sadly, but I have to stay up all night talking to a friend that's two hundred and fifty miles away on a school trip, so... heh. Still, next time we'll see what John and Sherlock get up to in this clearly random game of truth or dare. Byeee! **


	8. Chapter Seven

**I keep leaving you all on cliff-hangers, don't I? Well, this one won't, promise.**

* * *

Chapter Seven

"Fine, then. Ask away."

Sherlock smirked, seeming to ponder the opportunity for a few moments before finally focusing his eyes on me. "If you had to either spend a week locked in a room with Mycroft or Moriarty, who would it be?"

"Um... in what way?"

"In the 'they're on a sugar high and someone's gonna get hurt' way." Sherlock's smirk stayed in firm place.

"Uh... I guess your brother would probably be a bit more tolerable. Not that anything like that'd be tolerable. Because it wouldn't." I watched as Sherlock nodded his head in agreement.

"Good point. My turn. Truth."

I ran my hand across my neck, thinking about what I should ask. Then I decided that Sherlock wouldn't mind if I asked...

"Were you really a virgin before me?"

I watched as Sherlock blushed a slight pink, looking away for a few seconds before returning to his usual, stoic manner.

"No."

"Really? But what about when Mycroft said... at the palace..."

Sherlock chuckled. "He thinks he knows me, but he doesn't know half of the experiments I've conjured up in the past."

"...experiment?"

"Well, those... times weren't on a relationship level. I needed to know what the... effect was for myself. This _is _London, so think about who it might have been." Sherlock didn't seemed phased by this statement.

"Isn't that kind of thing illegal?"

"In the name of science..."

"Riiiight..." I looked at Sherlock for a moment, and then we suddenly burst into giggles.

"S-science... pahaha..." Sherlock's giggles made me feel all warm inside.

"Anyway, my turn again. Dare me now."

"Right, then... John, I dare you to..." Sherlock leaned in close, whispering the end to his sentence. I gasped.

"What? But that's... I don't want to go outside, though."

"Fine, then. Call her."

"B-but... oh, okay. Sounds like something fun'll happen, so let's do it."

"Right then. Give it ten minutes, though, I need to think."

* * *

Roughly ten minutes later, we were sat on the edge of the dining table; Sherlock's mobile dialling softly in his hands, and an urge to burst into hysterics shared between the both of us. Never did I expect such childishness from Sherlock, but if he wanted to pull this off, my word was I going to help him. I glanced over once the call connected, and he hit the speakerphone button. Molly's voice sounded through from the other end.

"Oh? H-hello, Sherlock...?"

"Good afternoon, Molly. I wondered if you had any good bodies I could check on." Sherlock looked like he was about to explode.

"Um. No, I don't think s-so..."

"Well, that's a shame, I - one second." _Here we go! _Sherlock popped the phone down next to him, just within Molly's hearing range. "John..."

"You wanted something, Sherlock?"

"Mmm-hmm. Come here a second." Sherlock grabbed at my arm, smirking. _Game on_.

"Oh, _Sherlock..."_

"Whoah, y-you guys need some s-space?" Molly's stammering caused Sherlock to almost blow his cover, and the only way to avoid laughing loudly was, fortunately, press his mouth against mine. Molly's confused stammers continued as me and Sherlock overplayed the entire situation, randomly moaning louder than necessary in order to gain Molly's complete attention.

"Y-yeah. I'm just g-gonna hang up n-now..." The dial tone bleeped.

I and Sherlock burst into hysterics the moment Sherlock leant away. I couldn't help but imagine how confused we must have made Molly feel. I did feel a bit mean, but the whole thing was too funny for words.

"So, my turn now?"

"Pfft, never mind that; let's try this out on Mycroft!"

* * *

**I don't really think this chapter was some of my best work, but I do like it nonetheless. Reviews please! Thanks. Oh, and I'd say we have maybe two more chapters before the grand finale, and that last chapter... I'll make it as special as I can. :D**


	9. Chapter Eight: The Finale!

**I am so, so, so, so, so, so, **_**so, so, so,**_** SO, SO, SO, SO****SORRY for taking forever to update. I had to finish my school year (Year Nine coming up soon, here comes the GCSE hellfire :/) and then I had to dust the house with a toothbrush (sort of) and then my computer decided it didn't love me anymore and it was all suicidal and it took its mistress the internet with it and after all that... I got lazy. But I was kind of tired.**

**Furthermore, ignore what I said before. Guys, I'm sorry, but this is the final chapter of Reminiscence. It was really just a test story, to get my head around the layout of and to see how well I could write for a start. But there will be a sequel in maybe a few months time, perhaps October when I have my head straight on this again. Later this week I'll start something else, and it'll be so random and hilarious your internal organs will have a party. And you won't get indigestion, I promise.**

**Now that this wall of text is done, the finale begins!**

Reminiscence - The Final Chapter

"John... how long has it been?" Sherlock gazed over at John worriedly. **(A/N: I know, that's just so ironic...)**

"Whuh? Oh... I don't know... it's been a while though... a long while." **(A/N: STOP IT ALREADY)**

"Well, there's been a matter concerning our current situation, and I'd like if we could discuss it together."

"Okay, then, what is it?" John didn't know what Sherlock was saying, but it almost sounded like... no, it couldn't. Could it? He really didn't know anymore... and besides, Sherlock wasn't the kind to-

"John... we haven't had a case in forever. So I decided we should take a holiday somewhere. You know, see if we can find something a little more entertaining to do." I relaxed in my chair. As much as I loved Sherlock, there was something a little worrying about taking this any further so soon.

"That sounds good. Where do you feel like going?"

"That's the thing. I was hoping you'd pick for me."

"Why? Couldn't you think of anywhere?"

"No, it's just..." Sherlock looked at me and smiled. "John, I've always dragged you around. When we go on cases, I bring you along without asking. When there's trouble, I never seem to be able to keep everyone safe. I do lots of experiments which risk the health of us both, and I even experiment on you from time to time. And you never have the chance to complain."

I stared at the detective. Where had all this come from? I sat up, perched on the end of my seat. "You don't drag me around at all. When we go on cases, you don't need to ask because I'll always be there - it's not like I have anything better to do. We've been in trouble a lot of times, but it's not like you need to take complete care of me. I was in the army, you know. I killed people."

"You were a doctor."

"I had bad da- that's not the point I was trying to get at. I've been in danger a lot Sherlock, and I can take a bullet if that's what it comes to. It's not your fault if other people get hurt, either. And the experiments are something I got used to quickly - although the H.O.U.N.D thing did get to me a little." I saw Sherlock blush a little at that. "But there's no point in me trying to complain."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"Because I know that everything you do turns out all right in the end. Bad things happen along the way, and it's hard to cope with sometimes, but there's a reason for everything, right? And I'll stick by you no matter what happens. I don't care if a zombified Moriarty crawls through the letterbox wearing his stupid homicidal grin, I'll be here for you and that is that."

I reached over to Sherlock, taking his head in my hands.

"John?"

"Now what?"

"Just... thank you. Thank you for everything, John."

* * *

_John W. - A Personal Account - 3__rd__ October_

_It's been several months since I typed up what I was thinking - though I suppose I haven't had much time to think. Why would I need to? I wanted Sherlock to know, and now he does (albeit he did find out a little sooner than I'd been ready for...), and we've moved forward. What's the point in thinking about the past? The time is now, after all._

_And I have so much to look forward to._

**And there we have it. I do feel like I could have done better with this ending, but I've been rushed because I'm late as it is and I'm on holiday next week, and I may or may not have internet so... heh.**

**Big thanks to anyone who has read this, and now, here's a list of special thanks, for those who have favourited/alerted me or the story/reviewed:**

**0Sabeth0**

**Don'tDissTheSonic**

**Just another time-lord**

**OtakuIsLove332**

**Serene Sage**

**Severely-Cumberbatched (Amy!)**

**sheholmes**

**666Neme666**

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**charlock221**

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**IamSHERlocked4eva**

**MaybeNeverButAlwaysForever**

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**Wow, for a first story that ain't half bad. ^_^ I'm happy!**

**Thank you all. Next up will be something random, 'cuz even I dunno what's next. See you next time!**


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